CHAPTER
ONE
SILENT KILLER
LUCA
The thrill of slicing a motherfucker’s throat is almost as exhilarating as getting pussy. Almost. But the sweet feeling of pushing into a warm soft center will always win. But killing will always be a close second for me.
Some people think I’m a psycho because of the way that I see things. Others think I’m a creep. And the real ones know that I’m both, but that’s not all I am. I’m a certified genius whose IQ was called into question many times in my younger years. It’s the reason I never bring it up. But my older brother, Roman, never lets me forget it.
“Please, I told you. It wasn’t me,” the man dangling from the ceiling whimpers.
“Shut the fuck up before I cut your tongue out,” I calmly reply.
I hate when these fuckers lie. I don’t make mistakes. I make sure to do all my research and gather undeniable proof before I bring anyone to my office.
“I-I have a family. My wife is pregnant,” the man continues to beg.
I sigh, going to the table and grabbing a scalpel. The sharp tool gleams under the glowing lights of my workspace. I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face. I place the scalpel over a portable torch until the blade glows an eerie orange. My gloved, covered hands can feel the heat, so I know the tool is ready for use.
My shoes click against the tile as I make my way over to the man. His beady eyes watch my steps before his gaze shifts up to the scalpel. I see his throat bob when he swallows.
I reach up to pull the asshole’s tongue out of his mouth, but he clenches his jaw. I shake my head, my dirty blonde hair falling into my eyes, reminding me that I need to pull it back. This job was one of convenience, so I didn’t get to prepare like I normally would. But that’s okay, the need to satisfy my killing urges overtook my organizational needs.
“Come on now, Matthew. I told you what would happen. Don’t fight it.”
The only time I really can express myself is when I kill. My family calls me quiet, but I’m not necessarily. I just don’t see the need to say much. Most people aren’t listening to you anyway. But when I have a victim at my mercy, I feel the need to talk the most.
Matthew continues to struggle by twisting his face away from me, but I slam my fist into his ear, and he howls out in surprised pain. I yank his tongue out and slice clean through it.
The heated weapon cauterized the wound so there isn’t much blood. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I’ve perfected my techniques. Like I said, I have an extremely high IQ. I just choose to use my knowledge for the darker side of my lifestyle.
“I was going to make this a fairly quick kill because you didn’t personally steal anything. However, you did help your buddies. And you know as well as anyone that taking from the Dalonzo organization is an offense punishable by death.”
Groaning from Matthew intensifies as tears stream down his pale face. I shake my head at the regret swimming like fish in the rims of his dark eyes.
“But then you had to go and open your mouth about your pregnant wife. But she’s not pregnant anymore, is she, Matthew?” I throw the accusation out and my words seem to echo in the air. “What? Cat got your tongue?” I chuckle.
I walk back to my tools and run my long fingers over the different-sized knives and scalpels. I really could’ve been a doctor with my fascination for dissecting things, but I think my talents serve me well as my brother Roman’s second in command over the Dalonzo crime family.
My older brother doesn’t like to get his hands dirty unless he has to; he’s more of a businessman. I love to get my hands dirty. Actually, the more appropriate word would be filthy.
I finally choose a beauty that will certainly have Matthew’s tongue wagging, well, if he still had one. I chuckle to myself.
I’m a funny motherfucker.
“As I was saying—” I address Matthew as I slowly head back in his direction, “You pushed your pregnant wife down the stairs, and she lost the baby she was carrying. Isn’t that right? Did you think nobody knew?” I mockingly raise my eyebrow.
“And now you want to bring her up for sympathy? You fuck anything that moves. As a matter of fact, I know about your little mistress. You’re a cheater, a woman beater, and a thief. You’re garbage, Matthew. And the world will be a better place after I send your soul to hell.”
The tears are spilling down Matthew’s face, and I can see the acceptance in his eyes. He knows that there will be no way out of this. He knew there was no way out when he made the decision to steal from us. His life ended as soon as he gave those motherfuckers the location of our gun shipment.
I spent another two hours working Mr. Besser over. He deserved every stab, cut, and bruise that I gave him. Once I was done, I meticulously cleaned up my mess. I am thorough when it comes to completing a job. I don’t trust anyone to clean up the way that I do.
I hum a tune that has been stuck in my head for days. Having an eidetic memory is bullshit sometimes. I can remember everything in my life in detail, even song lyrics, but the melodies get all jumbled, and it pisses me off.
“Fuck what the hell is this song?” I continue to hum as I lock up the basement office and head to the elevator.
